Sunday, June 21, 2015

One Act Play

Characters: Nathan - A CEO of a billion dollar business. Tall and  very fit. He has dark black hair maintained very well. Wearing a crisp, black suit, with a very expensive watch. Appears to be in his mid forties.

Sterling - Nathan's son. Seventeen years old. He is wearing a white oxford shirts and tan khakis with a red and blue striped tie. His shirt is untucked and his tie is loose. Both his pants and shirt are wrinkled. Like his father he also has dark black hair, but his is messy and much longer.

Setting: A large room. It contains two arm chairs positioned to face a large, marble fireplace. The fireplace is blazing with a large flame. On the walls are paintings, and tapestries. On the walls perpendicular to the fireplace, were extravagant cases filled with ribbons, trophies, and awards. There was no lighting in the room aside from the flickering of the fire.

It opens on the two in an  argument

Nathan: Sterling you have to go to college, or you won’t get anywhere

Sterling: But we’re rich, I don’t need to work, I don’t need to get a job

Nathan: You’re not rich, I am, you’re going to need to start doing some work if you’re going to keep spending so much money

Sterling: But Nathan, why do I need to go to more school?

Nathan: Because you need to learn how to handle a business

Sterling: But you can just teach me

Nathan: You need to learn the proper way

Sterling: I’ve already finished school, I don’t need to go to more
Nathan: If you’re going to continue to spend money you do

Sterling: (Shouting) I’m not going!

He walks out of the room, In the background you can hear glass smashing, a bit later a car is speeding away in the background

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

“I don’t think this is the right way” I thought.
The winding road circled on ahead, curving and bending in and out of the tall, grey trees. The monotonous green encompassed everything but the dirty road. Birds chirped and cawed all around, the cries echoing off the surrounding trees and rocks. There were sounds, yet there was an absence of noise. What I heard was just ambiance, the sounds of my surroundings. It was there, but at the same time it wasn’t.
It wasn’t until the birds stopped squawking, and the leaves stopped rattling, that I realized how truly alone I was. It was peaceful in an eerie sense. I was completely alone, away from everyday troubles, but this isolation presented new troubles.
“How will I get out?”
“What if something happens to me?”
I continued down the path, hoping I would finally break through the dense treeline, into an open field, or a lake, or even the clearing on the side of the road where I had left my car to go into the forest.

Hours passed and as far as I knew I was just getting farther from where I needed to be. As the time passed I became increasingly worried.
The sound was what hit me first. The slow trickling of water. Next was the smell of plants, different from the aroma that had been surrounding me this whole time. The trees started to thin out and I could see the bright clouds at the end. I walked through the treeline and saw the sparkling stream I had seen so long ago. About a hundred yards away was the spot I had parked my car.

I made it.

The wispy fog drifted in the breeze, hanging atop the placid water. The small motor propelled the steel haven silently across the water. This was exactly why he decided to wake up early, and prepare for his voyage this morning. The perpetual rippling mapping out his path through the shimmering water.

His line grew rigid, and began to pull from the boat. A clicking filled the air as line was pulled from the reel. The red and white ball was no longer floating atop the water but was now submerged being pulled deeper and deeper below the surface. He grabbed the handle, and spun the reel in circles, trying to pull the beast closer to him. The battle had just begun, it would rage on, back and forth. He would bring it closer, then the scaly monster would yank the line away. All progress by both of them would be wiped away. As the conflict dragged on, it became less of a battle of strength. Instead the winner would be the one with the most endurance. They would both leave the battle drained of energy.

He began to make some progress, bringing it in. It was still putting up a fight, but he was winning. He slowly pulled it towards his vessel, and at last could see the creature he was fighting. A massive fish loomed below the surface, his hook piercing its lips. He dropped in the net and lifted the beast out of the water. It flopped across the steel floor. He held it down, removed the hook, and let it flop around against the steel. at the end of all of this he released it back into the water, and was left with nothing but a picture, and a feeling of triumph.

The large stone home sat on hundreds of acres, consisting of rolling fields, and a large pond surrounded by tall trees and lively greenery. Tennis courts, walking paths, pools, and smaller cabins covered the estate. It was the high life, the one everyone envied. The kind of lives that filled the dreams of many. The high life.

Days of horseback riding, fast cars, private jets,  or anything else that appealed to the family. Money was never a worry. It was never brought up, never talked about. There were never questions about how much there was. It was just there.

Everything from the meals served, the china, to the silverware was immaculate. The manor was spotless, the grounds well maintained. The hedgework perfect, without a stray branch, or leaf. The grass trimmed short, yet was still a rich green, and was thick. The ponds were crystal clear, shimmering in the sunlight. Benches and stonework covered the property. Crafted perfectly, they were free of any chipping or weathering.

A life like this is perfect, right? Anyone would want to be a part of this family? Money is chased ruthlessly all over the world, but is it enough? The family living in this astonishing estate could buy anything, except the one thing they needed. Happiness.
An abusive husband was unable to control his anger, and took it out on his wife, and children. His spouse was now diagnosed with depression. She was mentally unstable, and was always medicated just to feel normal. Her daughter had found her pills one day, and is now abusing them, reaching for the same escape. Her drug abuse got worse and worse until she reached a point where she was spending thousands a day just to feel normal. Her brother had started acting out. Hanging out with the wrong people. He had been arrested two times before he turned fifteen. Money couldn’t buy him a better life.

The soft sandy beach was pushed between my toes. The miniscule particles giving way under my footsteps made it significantly harder to run, but still I was trying. My arms were swinging by my side, not in a dangle, but helping to propel me forward. The balls of my feet pushing off as hard as they could, but ending up simply pushing the sand beneath them.  The world slowed down as I flew through the air. My eyes following in slow motion, then I felt it in my hands. They clenched around it and it was now mine. What goes up must come down. My chest and arms were the first to crash down into the soft bed of sand, like the waves breaking in the background. My knees and legs followed, sliding forward on impact. The sand burned my legs, and sprayed all over my body, in my hair, and on my clothes. It didn’t matter though. Nothing else mattered. The only thing that mattered right now was the object in my hands.

There it was, the contents her life throughout the past year, in one tiny object. Wound up in a tiny black tape which looked like it could do nothing, let alone hold memories of a whole year of somebodies life. The small little disc, with SONY across the top, held so much importance to her. It described her happiness, all of the good times, all of the laughter and smiles of the past year. It contained all of the good memories. It contained both the good and the bad. All of the tears shed, the times she sat there hating herself. The good days and the bad all sat inside. This small tape had power. It was able to paint a story. But it could also be manipulated. It could make her look depressed, hating her own life, or it could make her seem like the happiest person in the world, never having a bad day. When it was played through it told the listener one thing. She was human.

Tick Tick Tick.  “What am I going to do, I am running out of time. “
Tick Tick Tick. “How will I get out of here”
Tick Tick Tick. “I need to get home”
Tick Tick Tick. “But Where am I though?”
Tick Tick Tick. “Its so dark in here”
Tick Tick Tick. “What if I can’t get out?”
Tick Tick Tick. “What if nobody notices I’m missing?”
Tick Tick Tick. “Why is this happening?”
Tick Tick Tick. “I can’t see anything”
Tick Tick Tick. “How did I get here?”
Tick Tick Tick. “Time is running out”
Tick Tick Tick. “Is there any way out?”
Tick Tick Tick. “How long have I been down here?”
Tick Tick Tick. “If I can’t get out soon, I’ll never get out”
Tick Tick Tick.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

          Pain. Horrible at its core, yet the cause of so much beauty. What is peace without war? What is freedom without oppression? Joy without suffering? In life, everything is on a spectrum. You can not notice the good in something without first experiencing the bad. You wouldn't be able to be happy without suffering at one point. In order to appreciate one end of the spectrum, you must understand the other. If good is all you have ever known, then it will get boring, old, lose its value. Likewise, if you have only lived through pain and suffering it will have desensitized you to the cruelty you are facing. Although inherently negative, pain is the bringer of joy. It can bring appreciation, and optimism, or it can lead to monotony and pessimism. It is a necessity of life, because without suffering there is no living, there is only surviving.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Palpable Irony

Palpable Irony

There was a man on the bench. He was reading the New York Times, I thought nothing of it at the time. There was no reason for me to. The second time I saw him, he reading the same paper. He was standing outside of the 7 Eleven as I was filling up my car. Sure, it was a little strange, but it was probably just a coincidence. The third time I noticed him, he was standing outside of my apartment building. He was standing below a street light. His dark black hair, the pitch black sun glasses, his dark suit, and that same New York Times newspaper, were all glowing in the fluorescence of the street light above.

Who was this man?

Was he following me?

What does he want?

I glanced over at him from the front of my car and sure enough he was just sitting there reading. I got out of my car and went to the trunk to get my work bag, which contained my laptop, as well as the report I needed to finish by tomorrow. When I closed the trunk, I glanced towards the streetlight and he was gone. I looked around but there was no trace of him. I looked back at the spot where he was sitting, and noticed the newspaper. It was sitting in the same spot, under the streetlight. I went over and picked it up, hoping to get a clue as to why he had been following me all day, or as to who he was.

I first noticed the date. In large letters at the top of the page were not today’s date, but instead was a week from today. I flipped through the pages, and it seemed just like a normal paper, nothing out of the ordinary, besides the date. Then I got to the last page. There was a big picture of my building. The caption read Apartment Fire: 12 found dead. The page ended with the words “Get out while you still can.”


It’s been 6 days since I first saw the man. I’ve seen him every day since, more frequently as the days have gone by. At first I shrugged it off. Maybe somebody was playing a prank on me, but as the week has gone one, I’ve been growing increasingly worried. The other day I saw the man everywhere I went, still reading that newspaper. I tried to talk to him, ask him who he was or why he was there, but he just ignored me. He just looked straight ahead, with a blank, unmoving expression.

This got to me more than anything else that had happened. In my head I’ve been thinking about what to do. The thought of leaving crosses my mind all the time. I’ve already talked to my parents. I’m planning on going to stay with them for a couple days. I’m packing now, and plan on leaving tonight.


My stomach sank as the shrill, ear piercing wailing filled my apartment. I ran to the door. My trembling fingers pulled the chain to unlock the door. My hands burned as I grabbed the blistering handle. I twisted and opened the door to a wall of fire, preceded by a wave of heat. I coughed as the smoke filled my lungs. I slammed the door, hoping that it would delay the flames from spreading.

I ran to the window, and tried to unlock the barred lock that covered them. It was stuck. I shook it as hard as I could, hoping to jar it open. After what seemed like forever I gave up and accepted defeat. I went to the middle of my apartment. The first number I dialed was 911, I told the operator. about the fire, and told them to hurry. I then called up my parents, and told them what was happening. I said my goodbyes, hung up the phone, and just sat in silence, waiting.
I tried to make sense of the situation.

Why is it happening today?

It’s too early, the paper was dated tomorrow.

And then realization hit. My whole body was filled with despair, as realization rushed over me. A newspaper shows yesterday's news.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Poetry final


Lights illuminating green below
Alone in fluorescence
Constructing dreams
Reserved for one
Open to all

Spenserian sonnet

The light shines,
The water illustrating the trees
A nearby picknicker dines
The air filled with butterflies and bees

Footsteps approach but nothing flees
The animals sit without fear
And the group of bodies freeze
As a boy whispers “look at the deer”

the deer aware of the boys leer
peacefully ambles away
the boys chatter absorbed by its ear
The animals scatter, the people are here to stay

Free Verse

a minnow dancing
unaware of any danger
everything goes dark
its pulled backwards
it has broken the surface
it soars through the air
the blackness
it is launched again
just a minnow dancing